


One Good Turn

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Advice, Bathtubs, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Minor Injuries, Snark, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: It started with Zane needing Ty's help, but now Ty's the damsel in distress...Picks up immediately afterSlipping Away.





	One Good Turn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oh_so_shiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_so_shiny/gifts).



There was no point in calling Clancy, even though she only lived a few miles away.

Not because she was a woman—she worked for the FBI, so she'd seen plenty of things much weirder and more alarming than this—but because she probably weighed one hundred and twenty soaking wet. If Ty with all his height and width hadn't been able to pluck him out of the bath, there was no way in hell someone as petite as Red was going to do any better.

He _could_ call Harry and Fred. The two of them pulling together could sort this out in no time at all. But would his ex-colleagues even be home on a Saturday night? Or would they both be out with their other halves, doing something more interesting with their time than damaging their backs and their heads?

Grunting slightly, he tried to shift some of his husband's weight onto another part of his body. It wouldn't be quite so bad if Ty's knee hadn't somehow ended up sticking right into his junk.

_Of all the groins, in all the baths, in all the world, your bony kneecap has to jam into mine…_

He nudged his human blanket's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake, but Ty didn't so much as twitch.Hardly surprising, really, given how badly he'd just walloped his head. Zane could see an impressive bump forming, a few inches above Ty's eye, no doubt soon to be accompanied by an equally impressive bruise.

One thing was for sure. When Grady finally came to his senses, he was going to hurt, and he was going to complain.

A _lot._

Zane examined the bump again and sighed. This was too big a problem for a friend, even a pair of friends as helpful as Harry and Fred. It was time to zip up his big boy pants and get on the horn to 911. It was going to be one of the least dignified, most memorable phone calls he'd ever made (and boy, he'd certainly made a few), but Ty needed proper medical help, and the sooner, the better.

He balanced the phone on his husband's shoulder and pressed the icon to open a call. The handset suddenly came to life, startling Zane so badly he almost dropped it over the edge of the bath.

The bathroom filled with the jarring sound of Ty's favourite Dropkick Murphys song. Zane didn't need to look at the screen to know who the caller was.

He swiped to the right to answer the call. "Hey, Nick," was all he said.

A moment of curious silence, then, "Garrett?" from the other end.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Okay, well, that answers my immediate question," Nick cryptically declared.

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I called Ty half an hour ago, but he was losing his shit and trying to politely hustle people out of the store, because you'd gone AWOL and he was half-convinced the NIA had sent someone to the house to kill you," the ex-detective explained. "He told me to call back in thirty, and to send in the cops if he didn't respond."

"Hold the cops, I'm fine."

Nick huffed. " _You're_ fine, but where the hell is Grady that you had to answer his phone?"

Zane blew out a weary sigh.

"I know that sigh, Garrett. What the fuck is wrong?" Nick asked again, sounding even more anxious now. "The fuck did you pair of crazy bastards do this time?"

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh, judge, interrupt, shout at me or ask for photos."

"Okay, why do I suddenly want to hang up the call and walk away?"

Zane snorted, wincing at what the motion did to his back. "You're not the only one, Irish. Unfortunately, walking away's the _last_ thing I can do right now."

"Now this I gotta hear. Tell me what's going on, and I promise on my granddaddy's grave I won't laugh, judge, interrupt, shout at your or ask for photos."

Zane nodded, not that Nick could see. "I threw my back out moving some boxes around, and I thought a jacuzzi bath would help."

"Not judging or laughing. Age is a terrible thing."

"And I decided to add some scented foam bath."

"Still not judging or laughing. We should all take the time to get in touch with our feminine sides."

Zane ignored the droll remark. "Except it turns out it wasn't foam bath I added."

Another ominous pause. "The fuck was it?"

"It was concentrated massage oil."

"Jesus Christ, Garrett," Nick said with a groan. "Tell me it wasn't that industrial, Doctor Pepper-scented shit Ty bought from some adult store over next to Patterson Park?"

"He _told_ you about it?"

"He sent me a bottle as a gift." Zane could almost hear Nick making quote marks with his fingers. "I used about a dime's worth then threw the stuff in the trash. Smells terrible, and it's fucking lethal. Makes that Rawleigh's shit Ty puts on wounds look like goddamn superglue. And you poured it into a _bath_?"

"It was an accident," Zane defensively said. "I was in pain, and I didn't have my reading glasses on."

Nick snickered as understanding dawned. "So that's why you went AWOL, isn't it? Ty was calling you, but you were flailing around in an oiled-up bath like a baby spider on roller-skates."

"I’m glad you think this is funny. I've been stuck in here for over an hour."

"So why the fuck hasn't Ty pulled you out? Or can he not _get_ you out? Is that why he's not there? Has he gone to round up another pair of hands?"

"It's worse than that."

"Garrett, I'm having a hard time imagining how a story like this could _possibly_ get any worse."

"Ty tried to pull me out."

"And?"

"Didn't work. I ended up pulling him in instead."

Nick was obviously confused now. "So you're saying he's in the bath with you?"

"Lying on top of me."

"So why the fuck didn't he answer his own goddamn phone?"

"Because he hit his head on the soap shelf on the way down, and knocked himself out."

"He's _unconscious_?"

"Uh huh."

"How long?"

"Not long," Zane said, briefly pulling the phone away to look at the length of the call. "A minute, maybe two."

"Okay, but why the fuck are you wasting your time talking to me?" Nick hollered. "Why haven't you called 911?"

"I was literally _just_ about to press the button when your call came in," Zane shot back. "And I thought you promised not to shout?"

"Sorry, man. I'm just worried about Ty. You need to get him to a doctor. If he hit his head hard enough to go under, he needs a concussion assessment ASAP."

"I know he does. I just… I just needed a moment to prepare."

"For _what?"_

"For having to explain this whole, ridiculous situation to a 911 operator, and then to a bunch of paramedics."

Nick snickered again. "Ooh, yeah, that's gonna be fun. Think I might have to go back on my promise of not laughing at you or asking for photos."

"You _do_ know you can go fuck yourself whenever you want?"

"I already tried, but I'm an inch too short."

"Funny."

"Look on the bright side, Garrett. When I think about it again, it _could_ actually be even worse."

"How?!"

"You could _both_ be naked. And one of you could have something deviant sticking out of your ass."

"I think I might actually prefer that."

"An embarrassment shared is an embarrassment halved?" the Irishman proposed.

"Something like that, yeah. Plus I could tell the paramedics we were trying out some kinky sex thing. Would still be really embarrassing, but not half as embarrassing as the truth."

"Sucks being old and decrepit, doesn't it?"

"That's putting it mildly."

"Go make that call, Garrett," Nick advised. "Text me once it's all over, let me know where Sleeping Beauty gets to on the uncooperative asshole scale once he finally opens his eyes."

"Does the scale go all the way up to eleven?"

"If it doesn't now, it will by the time the doctors are done," Nick warned. "We both know how much he loves being prodded and poked."

"This would be _so_ much easier if you could just stop by the house and help us out of the mess instead."

"I feel bad for you and all, Garrett, but I'm in fucking Boston."

"It's only seven hours by car," Zane helpfully pointed out. "I can wait."

 _"You_ can, but Ty can't. Even two minutes of unconsciousness is _way_ too much. You don't want him ending up with some kind of cognitive damage. Or at least, more cognitive damage than he already has. Get the hell out of here, go make that call."

The line went dead—Nick was gone.

In a moment of truly impeccable timing, Ty emitted a gentle moan.

As Zane watched, his husband's eyelids fluttered open. To his relief, both of Ty's pupils reacted and widened to the same degree.

One problem down, twenty-six million other problems to go…

"The fuck am I?" the ex-marine mumbled. "Why'm I lying 'n you? Where we at?" He groaned again as he tried to look round, realizing something was very wrong. "Why's m'head hurt? Am I dead?"

Oh, boy. One way or another, this was going to be a memorable night.

Zane brought the number pad up and punched in the code to summon help.

"911, what is the nature of your emergency?" a woman's voice politely enquired.

_Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…_

******************** 

Twelve exhausting hours later, they finally made it back to the house. Zane's back was aching and sore, and Ty was nursing the mother of all throbbing heads (plus a bump on his temple the size of a pigeon's egg), but other than that, they were more or less fine.

"I called Nick while you were having your x-rays done," Zane said as he closed and locked the door behind them. "Told him you'd woken up and were gonna be fine. Or at least, as fine as you can ever be." He'd called Kate and Lily as well, asked them to take care of the store for at least the next couple of days while the two of them got back on their feet.

Ty let out a truculent snort. "He's probably calling his buddies in the Boston emergency response centre, asking them to get in touch with the centre here to get a recording of your call."

"He's gonna be disappointed, because it actually went pretty well. Saadia was very helpful. Patient and sympathetic, and I got the feeling she'd heard even worse."

"Can't believe the paramedic woman remembered me from that ball game back in twenty-ten."

Zane shrugged. "You're obviously a memorable guy. And at least this time, she didn't try to give you her number."

"Probably because she was too damn busy ogling you."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Lone Star," the younger man warned. "I know what you look like naked, and it's a pretty impressive sight. No wonder the dudes went to fetch the collar and spinal board from the van. They probably needed a moment to sit in the corner and cry."

"Not my fault I fell out of the well-hung tree and hit every branch on the way down."

Ty grunted and rolled his eyes. "So modest as well," he muttered. He leaned over to unlace his boots, wincing as it triggered a rush of blood to his head, kicked the boots off and nudged them under a nearby bench.

Zane pulled some paperwork from his pocket, unfolded it, examined it at length and sighed. "Thank God for Obamacare," he declared. "Two of us'd probably be bankrupt without it."

"If mango head ever repeals it, I'm totally fucked," Ty warned. "I don't know about you, babe, but my whole _life_ is a pre-existing condition."

"Could always move to Canada if it gets too bad," the Texan suggested.

Ty looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can I buy an AR-15 in Canada?" he eventually asked.

"No idea, but probably not. Don't think our northern cousins are too keen on the whole semi-automatic thing."

"Fuck that, then. I'll stay here and be poor instead."

"The hell do you even need an AR-15 for?"

Ty shrugged. "Nothing in particular. I just like to be prepared."

"Prepared, right." For what Zane could only guess.

A noisy gurgle from Ty's stomach interrupted the conversation, reminding them both they hadn't eaten since the evening before.

"You want something to eat?" Zane asked. "Slice of toast, maybe a cup of herbal tea?"

Ty nodded. "But I want a good shower first. I just spent twelve hours in an ER unit, being poked and prodded by every medical student the hospital could apparently find."

"Not their fault you have such a fascinating medical record. Think it was like them all having their next ten Christmases at the same time. Pretty sure the three female students were itching to give you some Benadryl or OxyContin just to see what it would do."

Ty's expression darkened slightly. "You didn't have any problems on that front, did you? Getting something tolerable for your back?"

Zane shook his head. "Asked for a heat pack, an ice pack and a low dose shot of a non-addictive muscle relaxant, told them to hold the Tylenol 3."

"Good boy," Ty said with a smile. "If you're still sore, a shower'd probably do you some good as well."

"I dunno, doll. The master bathroom and I aren't really talking right now. Might be better to have a couple of days away from each other."

"You can't have an accident taking a shower," Ty pointed out, then added, "Unless you're _really_ trying."

"I'd have to climb over the edge of the bath. I can think of at _least_ seven ways that could go horribly wrong."

"How about I get into the shower first, give you a helping hand in? You ask me nicely, I'll wash and massage your back."

"That sounds nice," Zane said. Especially since they'd now run out of the Doctor Pepper-scented oil.

"Plus, the doctor said you should keep an eye on me for the next thirty-six hours. So I probably shouldn't shower alone, in case I get woozy and pass out on you all over again."

"There is that, yeah."

"We could take the fold-out kitchen steps with us, use them as a shower seat. They fit in the bath just fine, and it would make the whole thing even safer."

"Good practice for when we're old and decrepit and living in a senior's home."

Zane grinned as a dirty and highly non-decrepit thought suddenly popped into his head.

"And it would leave you at the perfect height to lather up something _way_ more interesting than my back."


End file.
